


we were never here

by lincesque



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincesque/pseuds/lincesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a message on his private mobile, waiting for James when he gets home after another exhausting shift at the bar.</p><p><em>How would you like to serve your country?</em><br/>- Q</p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Bond joins MI6 much later on in life and Q is the artificial intelligence he exchanges text messages with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we were never here

**Author's Note:**

> So occasionally I will think of really hysterical ideas like [this](http://tumbloncat.tumblr.com/post/36804019449/arghsofj-i-want-fic-where-bond-is-one-of-the) and then actually proceed to write it.
> 
> Urhaojf. NOTHING MAKES SENSE. I am sorry. Or something.
> 
> Title taken from '[Skinny Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxWiRBBPnr8)', originally by Bon Iver, covered by Ed Sheeran.

There’s a message on his private mobile, waiting for James when he gets home after another exhausting shift at the bar.

_How would you like to serve your country?_

_\- Q_

It’s eight words and a letter initial from a private number and it’s obviously spam or someone’s idea of a joke. But there’s a strange feeling that prickles on the back of his neck and that instinct is something that’s saved his life more than once.

He heeds it.

 _What are you offering?_ he sends back and waits for the reply.

*

“Welcome to MI6.” The man standing before him is a study in averageness. Average height, average weight. Even his expression is perfectly bland, hair a little thin, suit perfectly pressed.

“My name is Tanner,” he says and holds out a hand to James.

“Bond,” he drawls in reply, keeping his tone neutral, face expressionless. “James Bond.”

Tanner smiles and there’s no humor in it. It’s more like he’s copying an expression without understanding the feeling behind it. He tilts his head in the direction of the door. “If you’re ready, Mr. Bond, shall we get started?”

James lets the curve of his lips trace a smirk. “I was born ready. Sir.” He adds the latter on, a deliberate heartbeat late.

Tanner’s expression doesn’t change. “Very good. Let us go.”

*

His name is James Bond and he is the 7th agent handpicked by MI6’s AI Supercomputer, dubbed Q, to serve his Queen and country.

MI6 trains him, equips him and gives him a code name: 007.

He's their best agent by far, ruthlessly efficient with an almost supernatural ability to get himself out of the worst scrapes with nothing but a torn suit and bruises to show.

*

It still doesn’t explain why Q keeps messaging him during odd hours about inconsequential things.

*

_How did you find the gun?_

_\- Q_

 

_A little too heavy in the grip._

_\- 007_

 

_I shall take that into consideration when I draw up blueprints for your next weapon._

_\- Q_

 

_You come up with all our gadgets too?_

_\- 007_

 

_Who else but a computer with no need for food or sleep and the fastest processors on this planet?_

_\- Q_

 

_Could I make a suggestion then?_

_\- 007_

 

_It will be recorded but there are no guarantees on implementation._

_\- Q_

 

_I would like an exploding pen._

_\- 007_

 

_I beg your pardon?_

_\- Q_

 

_A pen. That explodes._

_\- 007_

 

_Yes, I understood the words, but do not understand the potential application of such an item._

_\- Q_

 

_I want one. Isn’t that enough?_

_\- 007_

*

Q doesn’t reply after the last message, even when James stays up, ignoring the heaviness in his limbs and the drowsiness of his mind.

He falls asleep, feeling disappointed for some unfathomable reason, and dreams of slender limbs and dark hair spilling over pure white sheets.

*

Tanner hands him a small box in addition to his weapons pouch three weeks later, just before James is due to fly to Russia on a covert mission to infiltrate a drug cartel.

He raises both eyebrows and weighs the box in hand. “This is?”

“A little something extra that Q thought you needed,” Tanner replies and although his expression is as blank as it always is, there’s a stiff hint of disapproval in his normally even voice.

James lifts the lid and stares down at the silver fountain pen nestled in blue velvet.

He laughs, bright and delighted.

*

_Thank you._

_\- 007_


End file.
